


Commit the Crime, Serve the Time

by AetherSeer



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2018-2019 NHL Season, Chastity Device, Cock Cages, Gen, Punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 05:22:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18653740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AetherSeer/pseuds/AetherSeer
Summary: Evgeny knows it the minute his stick reaches out too far, before the referee even gets his whistle to his lips. The shrillskreejust settles that knot of tension lower in Evgeny’s gut, even as he goes through the motions of protesting the hooking call before skating over to take a seat in the box.He doesn’t look across the ice to the Capitals’ bench. He knows what’s waiting.





	Commit the Crime, Serve the Time

Evgeny knows it the minute his stick reaches out too far, before the referee even gets his whistle to his lips. The shrill _skree_ just settles that knot of tension lower in Evgeny’s gut, even as he goes through the motions of protesting the hooking call before skating over to take a seat in the box.

He doesn’t look across the ice to the Capitals’ bench. He knows what’s waiting.

 

Sixty minutes of play goes by too fast, even with Beags back on the ice—in the wrong colors, across the faceoff dot, nearly scoring a goal for the wrong team. Evgeny slides through the line to press his forehead to Holts’ mask, gloves keeping his fingernails from digging into his palms.

Evgeny makes Isabelle laugh in the presser, lowering his eyes when Coach walks by even as he gives her the answers she wants to hear. And they’re true answers, about Alex and his record-setting year—record-setting, amazing career—but his attention’s not fully on her and she knows it.

She lets him go. He wishes she hadn’t when the other media take the cue and also pack up their microphones and cameras.

Evgeny fiddles with the string of his hoodie, shifting uneasily on his feet. Across the room, he can see Michal’s eyes flicking between Alex and the door before Michal ducks his head, dark hair obscuring his face.

They’re the only two with penalty minutes this game.

 

Coach shuts the door behind the media, crossing his arms over his chest. “Kuznetsov. Kempny.”

Evgeny stares at the wall over Coach’s head. He hates this part of punishment, even more than what comes after. The anger and shame coil around each other in his belly, simmering and sparking.

Coach lays it out for them, in front of the entire team. The penalty, the result, the pressure Evgeny and Michal put on their teammates to rectify their mistakes. The effort Braden expends every game trying to keep the team afloat, keeping them from sinking the bottom of the league with how many times their defense has fallen apart and hung him out to dry this season.

“Kuzy,” Coach reprimands. Evgeny snaps his eyes down to focus on Coach’s face. “That’s two games in a row now. You know what that means.”

He does, is the thing. Evgeny knows very well what that means. He licks dry lips and nods. “Yes, Coach. Extra day for me.”

Coach jerks his head toward the row of little metal lockers in the corner. “Well? We haven’t got all day.”

Evgeny darts a glance around the room. No one’s moving except him and Michal, pulling open their individual lockers and taking out the box inside. The weight feels dangerously light in Evgeny’s hands as he eases the cool metal from its velvet confines.

Michal’s already offering to Alex, so Evgeny heads for Braden, his goalie who kept the game for them despite Evgeny’s mistakes. Braden spreads his thighs, lets Evgeny stand between them as he offers wordlessly, begging with his body for forgiveness.

 

Braden slides Evgeny’s underarmor down over the swell of his ass, leaves it bunched around his thighs. Traps him in cloth confines. Evgeny shies away from Braden’s hand on his hip; makes a tiny protesting noise when Braden pushes Evgeny’s thighs wider.

Braden’s hands are always gentle, but that doesn’t mean Evgeny doesn’t flinch when cool metal slides over his vulnerable skin, trapping him in solid steel. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t curl in on himself, make himself smaller, after he’s locked away, cock and balls soft and vulnerable where they peek out between the bars of the cage.

Evgeny makes a soft noise when Braden clicks the lock shut. His heartrate picks up—he breathes in, out, in the pattern that Braden himself taught him—keeps himself from the instinctive panic that comes with the shift in control.

Evgeny _hates_ the cage—hates what it represents, what it means, what it reduces him to. He hates the feeling of cool metal encasing him; hates that he isn’t trusted to control himself—that he has to rely on _Coach_ for that control.

He steps back awkwardly from Braden, tugging his leggings back up around his waist. The fabric doesn’t show anything, but the team knows what Evgeny—and Michal—conceal between their legs. All of them have gone through punishment at one point or another—or several times—but Evgeny can’t push past the shame that’s winning out over the anger.

Punishment duly dispensed and observed, Coach dismisses them for the night.

 

Evgeny drives home, all too aware of the weight between his thighs.


End file.
